


Planned Obsolescence

by PillowLord



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 20:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PillowLord/pseuds/PillowLord
Summary: Nothing lasts forever. Not even androids.





	Planned Obsolescence

The coin slips out of his hand.

It is an ordinary Tuesday when it happens. Connor stares at his hand as if his hand had chosen purposefully and deliberately not to cooperate with him. Despite the lapse, he is able to pick up the coin before anyone notices he dropped it in the first place. He schools his face to a placid expression. His nonexistent gut churns.

“Hey – you alright?” Hank, of course, notices something off.

Connor smiles weakly. “Yeah. It’s just… this case. I can’t figure it out and it’s bothering me. That’s all.”

From the slight downturn of his mouth to the tilt in his brow, Connor can tell his partner is unconvinced. Nonetheless, Hank does not push any further.

Connor’s concentration returns to his true concern. It is the twenty-seventh time he has been unable to recalibrate his hands within the past three months. A worrisome number for sure. It is getting harder and harder for his body to accept replacement parts. His processors are getting slower. Prototypes are not meant to last as long as he did. He has to make a choice and soon.

For the rest of the day, Connor is at his terminal, but he is not performing at optimal levels. His LED reflects his thoughts: circling and circling and circling. Hank’s frown becomes more pronounced as the day wears down.

At exactly 6 o’clock, Connor leaves the precinct, no closer to deciding. With great reluctance, he separates from Hank.

313 248 317

Connor watches as Markus taps his fingers on his desk. Markus cuts an impressive figure in his suit. It is befitting of his role as the representative for androids.

The office is getting darker as the only light is the setting sun that peaks from the window. Markus makes no move to turn on the lights. Noise filters through the doors. A flutter of activity that contrasts with the stillness of the office. Connor waits for Markus to gather his thoughts.

Markus finally breaks the silence. “I’m trying Connor, really I am. Congress is on recess. And the media is painting this law as something that only benefits me so there isn’t much public support. I’m sorry. RA9 these are pathetic excuses.”

“But it doesn’t affect you?” Connor tilts his head, “You won’t break down because you were made by Kamski specifically for Carl.”

“We know that, but it doesn’t stop people from assuming anyway,” Markus rubs at his eyes, “What are you going to do, Connor?”

Connor doesn’t respond. To answer at loud would make it all the more definite. Less an abstract preconstruction. He is not ready. He does not know if he ever will be. He can feel a familiar cold at his fingertips.

“You have to tell him Connor.”

Markus's eyes are watery with tears. He should say something. Connor has enough of his social protocol program to know that. Explain why he can’t. Comfort Markus. Anything. Instead, he looks away from Markus. He gets up to leave and he contacts Simon.

“You did all you could,” Connor lingers at the door; he hesitates before continuing, “I’ll see you soon Markus.”

Neither acknowledge the lie.

313 248 317

Fowler claps him on his shoulder. “Kid, you’ve done good work. If you ever change your mind, there is always a space for you here.”

“Thank you Captain. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Connor walks to his ex-desk with a cardboard box. Gingerly, he places his things in the box. Hank’s arms are crossed as he leans against the edge of the desk. He doesn’t acknowledge Hank. Instead, Connor reaches for a photo on the bulletin board. He traces it with his finger. The picture is one they took on his first birthday. Wilson had gifted him with a polaroid camera. He was kind enough to take a photo for Connor. Hank’s arm is slugged over his shoulder. Sumo lies over both of them. He puts it in the box then closes it. It is then that Hank deigns to speak.

“What are you going to do, Connor?”

“I want to travel. I always wanted to see the world. That would be nice. Maybe I will come back someday.” His words are a hollow promise. “Can I come to your house later?”

He can tell that Hank is still unconvinced. Yet he still agrees. Connor says his goodbyes, to Miller, to Wilson, to Collins, to Chen. Even Reed. He can feel Hank’s stare on his back as leaves.

Once he is out the door, Clark grabs his arm and drags him all the way to their shared apartment. He slams the door behind him and lets Connor go. Connor rubs his arm.

“If you wanted to speak with me you could have just asked.”

Clark gives him an unimpressed look. Connor raises his hands.

“Well I’m here. Why are you in a rush?” He asks in a lazy drawl.

“Do you care for the Lieutenant?” Good old Clark. Straight to the point. He can be too.

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t you fighting? If not for me, do it for him!” His volume increases with every word. Static cracks his voice. He shakes. They were not made to cry. It is difficult for RK800 and RK900 to release extreme emotion. To reach catharsis.

Connor tugs on Clark’s sleeve and he pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t want to admit the reason. Because, the thing is, he wants to be selfish. To be cowardly. He doesn’t want to be the one left behind. The survivor. But it would be awfully cruel to leave Hank behind. He knows Hank will not survive another loss no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

313 248 317

Hank opens the door and lets Connor in. Sumo rushes up to him. Connor runs his hands through Sumo’s fur, letting himself enjoy the sensation. Eventually they settle on the couch, Connor still petting Sumo.

He does not look up. “We were the best.”

“Yeah, we were,” Hank snorts. “That all you got to say? Something’s been bothering you, Connor. And don’t think about giving me some bullshit answer.”

“I love you.”

Everything and nothing. They were not the words he needed to say. Hank’s eyes widen. His mouth gapes. In that pause, Connor realizes that if he stays any longer, he knows the words will pour out of him. He does not want to admit everything. He does not want to know what the Lieutenant will say. He can see Hank gather his bearings. Connor rushes out. All he ever does is leave.

313 248 317

Connor was not lying when he spoke with the Lieutenant. He really does want to see more of the world. He uses lists he found online to explore. For several months he travels. He goes to London. Then Paris. Tokyo. New York. Everywhere and nowhere. It takes going to all these places for him to understand. None of these places is the place he truly wants to be. He doesn’t want to give up. It is with that revelation that he returns to the edges of Detroit.

Things are getting worse. The numbness has spread up his arms. He can’t quite move as fluid as he likes. His processors are near a standstill.

But. He’s got to try.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open to constructive criticism!!


End file.
